


I must be blind (but now and then I see)

by lauraby



Series: Sweet Hitch-Hiker [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Creeper Derek, Gen, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraby/pseuds/lauraby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah, he would have noticed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I must be blind (but now and then I see)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Slight Distraction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/725835) by [otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter/pseuds/otter). 



> This was inspired by otter's "A Slight Distraction" because I really wanted to see more of this verse, but otter was done playing in this sandbox, so I figured I'd write it myself. Blame otter. This takes place before the events of that story, when Stiles is a freshman and Derek is a senior. 
> 
> Also, the title of this was also inspired by CCR, blame otter for that too.
> 
> EDIT: How did this turn into a series? It must have happened when I wasn't looking, I'm sure I didn't sign up for that.

The first time Derek saw him, he was mangling a straw.  

In fact, mangling might be too nice a word.  Annihilating might work better.  Derek had no idea who he was, which probably meant he was a freshman; Beacon Hills High School wasn't that big and Derek was sure he would have noticed him before now, otherwise.  
  
Derek took in the pale skin of his throat, the bright, whiskey brown eyes, and his wide, laughing mouth that was currently mauling a straw into submission. And if all this weren't enough, there was always his smell. Sunshine, fresh air, newly cut grass; he smelled like the first day of summer. Without the overpowering stench of chlorine that clung to his classmates with the actual arrival of summer.  
  
Yeah, he would have noticed him.  
  
Derek had been sitting at his usual table in the cafeteria, the one in the corner by the window. Derek never actually ate the lunch provided by his school's cafeteria (an enhanced sense of smell put a real damper on mystery meat Tuesday), but Laura had told him to make a point of being seen there anyway in order to not draw unnecessary attention to himself.  
  
It had been different for Laura, of course. She'd sat in the cafeteria every day because that's where all the popular kids sat; with three tables pushed together in the center of the room, forming a triangle of the most popular kids in school. The kids who'd be voted “Most Popular” - Laura Hale & Marcus Weston, “Best Smile” - Laura Hale & Austin Kelly and “Most Likely to Succeed” - a surprising upset by Monica Schroeder & Kevin O'Connell.  
  
Derek, on the other hand, was probably going to be voted “Most Likely to Become a Recluse” or possibly “Most Likely to Do Hard Time”.  

Derek didn't really understand how he'd developed such a reputation, but he'd been told it was because his "thinking face" resembled most people's impression of a "serial killer face" (according to Laura), or possibly because of his clothing choices; boots, black jeans, and a gray or black shirt (depending on the cleanliness of either). Laura had tried to draw Derek into the sacred triforce of Beacon Hill High's lunch room, but truthfully he'd always felt more comfortable on the outskirts. Since freshman year he’d brought a bag lunch from home and a book.

Laura and he were different in that she craved social interaction like Derek craved the peace and solitude of a long run through the woods, and he was okay with that.

Until Stiles.

Yes, Derek could have abused his superhuman abilities to learn the name of the freshman boy sitting at the table adjacent to his own, could have, but luckily didn’t have to. Stiles and his friend, Scott, were loud enough that enhanced hearing was unnecessary. He learned a lot about Stiles that first day. Derek learned that he preferred Pepsi over Coke, curly fries over absolutely anything; he learned that Stiles had Mr. Morris for freshman lit (Derek silently offered his condolences), and finally, that Stiles and Scott were going to try out for the JV lacrosse team.

Derek liked lacrosse. Well, Derek _could_ like lacrosse. He’d never actually been to a game before, had in fact avoided most sporting events with a passion that bordered on fanaticism, but that could change. Maybe he really liked lacrosse and just never knew it? He’d have to go to a game or two. Maybe he’d bring Laura along; she loved reliving her BHHS glory days now that she was a college sophomore.

 

*

 

Derek could practically _smell_ Laura’s suspicion.

Not once, in Derek’s entire high school career, had he willingly attended a school sporting event – or event in general – that his sister was not going to be crowned Queen of Something at. Which is why when he’d invited Laura to attend the first lacrosse game of the year – the Homecoming Game, in fact – Laura’s eyes had immediately narrowed with distrust. Derek could almost see the various scenarios she was concocting in her head to explain away his uncharacteristic suggestion. And really, Laura? Demonic possession? He wasn’t that antisocial.

Okay, yes, this was a first for Derek.        

But the JV lacrosse team roster had gone up a few weeks ago in the locker room - and Stiles had made the team. Sure, as second string. But someone could have to sit out so Stiles would have to play – and no way was Derek going to miss watching that.

Which is why he and Laura found themselves climbing into the second row of bleachers next to the lacrosse field, conveniently right behind the player’s bench.

“So do you want to share the reason for your sudden display of school spirit, or am I supposed to guess?” Laura asked him as the team began to make their way towards the field, all of the players reeking of nerves for their first game.

Derek felt himself flush and hoped the pink he could feel spreading over his cheeks and up to his ears could be excused by the early chill of the October air. Stiles had turned to wave excitedly in his direction and for one deluded second Derek thought Stiles had been waving to him; before he noticed the man a few rows behind him waving back, the man wearing the Sheriff’s jacket and matching badge. Stiles’ dad was the Sheriff.

Good to know.

“Do I need a reason, Laura? Maybe I just like lacrosse?” Derek said, with a shrug. He was under no delusions that his sister would actually let it go at that, but luckily a whistle blew to signal the start of the game and he could hopefully feign enough interest in it to put her off until later. And feigning would have to suffice, because number 24 – Stiles – was seated firmly on the bench the entire game.

Derek could feel his eyes drawn to the boy like little Stiles-charged-magnets and couldn’t help smiling whenever Stiles’ excitement got the better of him, cheering for his teammates louder than anyone in the crowd, even throwing his arms around Scott when a particularly good goal was made. Derek closed his eyes when that happened in case his eyes flashed beta-gold. Derek had to remind himself to pay attention to the game; he had to comfort himself with just listening to Stiles’ excited babbling and cheering so that Laura wouldn’t notice he had eyes for only one player.

Laura kept side-eyeing him occasionally, but Derek must have been convincing enough, because he didn’t hear another word for the rest of the game.

In fact, she held off until they were home before casually taunting, “So, player 24, huh? Does baby brother have a crush?”

Laura cackled as she ran into the house ahead of Derek, probably off to do villainous sisterly things like research Beacon Hill’s JV lacrosse team.

Derek comforted himself with the fact that she wouldn’t find anything.

He’d already looked.


End file.
